


Ache With Me

by LikeTheColor



Category: Criminal Minds, Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Romance, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeTheColor/pseuds/LikeTheColor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer Reid finds himself alone in Seattle when he meets Amelia Shepherd. One chance meeting might unravel both of their worlds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me after some of the most recent episodes of CM and Grey;s. I write it assuming that the reader is at least familiar with both characters story-lines/past but if not, hopefully you'll still be able to piece it together. Enjoy! :)

Spencer Reid sat at the bar staring at his whiskey and coke. He had barely taken a sip and he watched the beads of condensation drip down the exterior of the glass and saturate the square napkin below it. He helt numb. Everything was going well for him until it wasn't anymore.

He'd been getting the calls about his mother for a few weeks. She'd grown resistant to the medication and her psychiatrist was having a difficult time keeping her compliant with new ones. After countless nights staying on the phone with her, trying to calm her delusions, he'd finally decided to fly out to see her, to talk with her doctors, to try and figure this out.

Only he'd been too late.

He'd learned to expect the unexpected when it came to himself and his family but he hadn't been prepared for the phone call from Bennington Sanitarium the moment he'd stepped off the plane in Las Vegas. 

_Dr. Reid? This is Dr. Santiago, please call me as soon as you can. It's urgent. We need you to get here as soon as possible._

Remembering the words made him feel cold all over again. His world felt like it was in slow motion as he walked into the hospital and was ushered into a small room right away. It was a stroke. An unforeseen reaction to a new dosage of medication. She was gone before they could even try to save her.

He'd tried to make sense of it by reading the medical examiners report over and over. He'd memorized it and still it didn't make sense./ It didn't make sense as sat with his mother's body in the morgue either. The doctors at Bennington had advised him against it but he needed to sit with her one more time. To process it. To try and say good-bye. 

Somewhere over Oklahoma he'd been a man with a living mother and by the time he'd flown over, unbeknownst to him, he wasn't. He knows death is inevitable, he is a doctor for Christ's sake but knowing something and experiencing it are two very different things.

He hadn't called the team yet. He wasn't ready for their well meaning words of comfort. He didn't want to feel comfort. He wanted to hurt and ache and fall apart for a while longer until he had to pull it together. Until he had to do his job. Until he had to be the competent and intelligent Doctor Reid. 

Right now, all he wanted to be was Spencer. To be the awkward nerd who spouted statistics, who loved academics and who felt incredibly lonely now that the only he person who truly understood him was gone. He had two weeks of vacation and he planned to use every hour of it to be just that. 

She died on Thursday and today was Saturday. He found himself driving along the winding roads of Las Vegas, across to the busy interstates of California and had landed in Seattle. He liked it enough. It was cloudy and damp which suited him just fine.

  
It was Saturday and he was sitting in a bar, alone and for the first time in a long time, wishing he had dilaudid. The alcohol would have to suffice for now. That is, if he could bring himself to actually consume it.

"Mind if I sit here?" The voice broke him from his thoughts and he turned his head to see a woman standing next to him. She was slender with dark eyes and a wide smile. She was wearing a fitted black leather coat which, between her long dark hair and the dark clothing, made her pale face stand out. She smiled as she gestured to the seat next to him. He shrugged his shoulders and shifted in his seat to awkwardly scoot the bar stool back so she could sit.

"Some people would call that abuse." She said easily as she perched herself on the stool. Spencer cocked his head to the side.

"What?" He asked, squinting at her. She laughed and pointed to his drink. The ice had almost all melted and the drink had an hombre look to it where it was clear at the top then darkened at the bottom where the drink had not been diluted.

"Sad really." She said, with an amused smile still splayed across her face. He turned his focus back to his drink. He grabbed the straw, stirred the contents until the color of the drink was uniform and downed most of it in one go. She laughed at the slightly disgusted face he made after he set his glass back on the bar counter top. As she extended her hand to him she said, "My name's Amelia. Amelia Shepherd."

"Spencer Reid." He replied as he stared at her hand. "Sorry, I don't shake hands. Germs." Spencer returned the smile, looking over her features. Her longish dark hair cascaded around her face and her eye crinkled at the corners as her tongue sat just behind the open part of her teeth as she smiled. He liked the symmetry of her face and her voice was pleasant. He couldn't help but notice the dark circles under eyes that she tried to cover with makeup. They mirrored his own only he didn't have make up to try and hide them. She pursed her lips at him and gave a short laugh as she retracted her hand.

"Okay then. So Spencer Reid, are you from around here? Generally, I see the same fifteen people in this bar at any given time." Amelia asked as she flagged down the bar tender and ordered a club soda and lime. Spencer found it a bit odd that after encouraging him to drink she ordered a beverage containing no alcohol. 

"No." Spencer replied, as he nodded to the bar tender who motioned at his almost empty drink, signaling that yes, he did want another. "I live in Quantico, Virginia but I was home visiting my mother in Las Vegas and well, then I ended up here."

"Quantico?" Amelia asked, raising her eyebrows as she sipped her drink. "You in the FBI or something?"

"Actually, yes. I study human behavior as part of a branch based there. Now, since you know what I do, what do you do, Amelia?" Spencer replied as he finished the rest of his drink and then swapped out the empty glass for the full glass that was placed in front of him.

"Me? I'm a neurosurgeon. I work at the hospital down the street. Essentially, I drill into peoples skulls and brains and work my mad surgical skills magic to save them from the inevitable death of every malady and injury you could think of." Amelia took a moment to take a long drink. The ice cubes hitting the side of the glass made an almost whimsical cadence among the dull chatter of the bar. "FBI, huh? How'd you land that gig?"

"Having an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and several PhD's really helps." Spencer said idly as he sipped more of his drink. He was starting to feel the first bits of intoxication take over.

"So it's Doctor Reid, then?" Amelia asked, playfully giving him a shove on the shoulder. "You get more interesting by the second."

Spencer frowned at the contact but even to his surprise, he didn't mind as much as he thought he would. 

"Yes, formally it would be Doctor Reid, Doctor Shepherd." Spencer said with a smirk. Amelia laughed.

"Touche. Touche. I knew someone with a photographic memory once. Is that the same?"

"It's similar but studies have shown that the concept of a photographic memory has not been demonstrated to actually exist. Statistically speaking, for my age, it's amazing I still have eidetic memory skills. They tend to dissipate by the age of six and are almost non-existent after age twelve. Then again, I tend to not be on the normal end of any spectrum. It's possible your friend had hyperthymesia which is also referred to as highly superior autobiographical memory in which case the subject has very vivid recollections of minute details like what a stranger wore or how they felt on a particular day. That is much more more common in an adult. When did your friend die?" Spencer finished his ramble and his drink around the same time.

"What?" Amelia asked, pursing her lips together as she furrowed her brows. "Why would you ask that?"

"It was the tone and pitch you used on the words knew and once. I told you, I study human behavior."

"A few years ago. In a plane crash. She was like a sister, twice removed by marriage or something like that." Amelia clarified as she grabbed her cell phone and began tapping at the screen.

"That makes no sense." Spencer said with a hint of a laugh. Amelia ignored him and stared intently as the screen of her phone. "What are you doing?"

"Googling you. So you're a profiler? It looks like the youngest profiler to ever be a part of the coveted Behavioral Analysis Unit?"

"Really? Come on!" Spencer grabbed at her phone but Amelia pulled it back from his reach. In retaliation, Spencer pulled out his own device and typed in the most common spelling of her name he could think of and quickly scrolled through the links. He was impressed. She was one of the best neurosurgeons in the country based on her medical publications.

"Are you Googling me now?" She asked, trying to get a look at his phone but he quickly hit the lock button and the screen turned black.

"I prefer Bing as my internet search engine but yes, I was googling you." 

"And?"

"And you seem to be pretty brilliant yourself. I'm sorry about your brother." Spencer watched her face crumble for a moment before she caught herself and smiled.

"People die. That's life. Brothers. Fathers. Boyfriends. Children. Friends..." Amelia let her voice trail off and Spencer picked up.

"Mothers. Victims, Unsubs..."

"Unsubs?" 

"Unknown subjects. Simply put, the bad guys." Spencer clarified. Amelia nodded.

"I'm sorry about your mother." She said quietly but sincerely. Spencer stared down at his drink. He anticipated she'd pick up on that since it was the first type of person he'd listed. He knew by her voice that she'd lost everyone of the people she'd listed. It amazed him the amount of loss the human form could face and still function.

"People die." He said, mimicking her words. They both took a sip of their drinks and sat quietly for a little bit. Spencer wondered about who the people were and how they died. He wondered if they went in crazy, unthinkable ways like he was so used to seeing with his line of work or if they had passed from natural causes. He realized Amelia was speaking softly to herself. He strained to hear the words.

" _God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,the courage to change the things I can..._ " Even though the words were soft, he recognized them immediately. The serenity prayer. He knew it by heart and had spent many nights saying the words to himself over and over. He'd recite it when in the aftermath of a gruesome take down, when he was tired and frustrated from a case. Some days, just because he was by himself. 

" And the wisdom to know the difference." Spencer said, finishing the familiar prayer. "How many days?"

"One thousand five hundred and forty-four but who's counting, right? You?" Amelia asked as she turned to face him again.

"Three thousand two hundred and twenty, respectfully. Although some members of the program would disagree since I drink but alcohol was never the problem."

"And what was?"

"Dilaudid."

"Oxy."

They turned to face each. Amelia studied Spencer's face and wondered how it began for him. She saw a younger man but with tired eyes. His hair fell unevenly across his face and she watched as he crossed one leg over the other and wrapped his arms around himself in sort of self hug, like he was trying to be a small as possible. To take up as little room in the huge world. She understood. She'd felt like that a lot in her life.

  
The little bag of oxycontin pills felt heavy in her pocket. She'd debated over whether to even get them. Some days if was easier than other but this day, after the fight with her sister in law, if she even was her sister in law now that her brother was dead, she'd felt raw and like the world was weighing on her shoulders. She missed Derek. She missed Ryan. She missed her dad. She would rather feel nothing than the pain of those losses. So she'd bought the oxy and then came to the bar. She hadn't gotten the courage yet to order a drink but she knew she probably would. Just like she knew she;d probably take the oxy. Screw the over four years of sober. Sober didn't feel so good these days anymore. 

"Do you think it ever goes away?" She asked Spencer. 

"Does what go away?"

"Wanting it."

"No. I was sitting here thinking if I had the opportunity, I would take dilaudid again. Right now, I think anything would feel better than feeling like this." Spencer told her. Amelia reached into her pocket to wrap her fingers around the bag. She wasn't sure where she was going with this. He was a federal agent but she doubted he'd turn her in. It might have been stupid to think that but she'd been around enough addicts to know that there was almost a secret code of conduct. Especially when it came to professionals. Doctors. Lawyers. Law Enforcement. 

She opened the bad with one hand, gripping two of the pills. They felt familiar yet foreign in her hand as she pulled it from her pocket. They were forty milligram pills. She had twenty of them.

"Can I trust you?" Amelia asked. Spencer turned his head toward her, a look of confusion on his face. He looked her in the eye, trying to get a sense of why she was asking such an odd question. The realization hit him and he bit his lip. He could see her hand closed in a fist and he knew. He knew she had pills. 

"Yes." He answered, holding her gaze.

"Give me your hand." He obeys and held out his hand and then felt the small round pill in the center of his palm. He maneuvered it so he could grip it between his thumb and fore finger and took a shaky breath in before bringing it to his mouth. He watched as she did the same. With eyes locked, they both swallowed the pills. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up quite a bit. :) Enjoy!

Amelia smiled as she turned to face the bartender who had stopped in front of her. She knew that the pill would be taking effect soon but she also knew that it was a low dose and she wanted something to help along the high.

"Ready to order something else?" The bartender asked her with a wink. Amelia nodded.

"Shot of tequila, please?" She said. "Oh, and a shot for my friend here. Don't forget the lime and the salt." She turned to Spencer who put his hand up.

"I don't know if I should drink-" He began.

"Don't be ridiculous. I've already ordered it so you have to drink it." It was simple logic really. The bartender returned with two shot glasses, two wedges of lime and a salt shaker. Amelia slid one of the shot glasses over to Spencer who picked it up and looked at the liquid in it.

"Exactly how are you supposed to shoot tequila?" he asked, eyeing the limes and salt. Amelia laughed.

"Are you serious right now?" She asked. Spencer shrugged.

"What? I've never drank tequila before. It's a totally legitimate question." He said, his voice rising a bit. She motioned to the bartender and asked for one more shot and another slice of lime. A moment later, the bartender set the second shot glass down in front of her.

"Watch and learn." She said as she picked up the salt shaker. She licked the area of skin between her thumb and index finger and sprinkled some salt on it. Spencer wrinkled his nose at the thought of licking his hand. "The trick is to do this in one fluid motion. Lick the salt, slam the shot and then bite the lime."

Amelia grabbed the lime slice with her salt free hand then licked the salt off the other. She grabbed the shot glass, drank the shot then quickly bit into the lime. Spencer watched as her face screwed up slightly, probably from the taste of liquor, then she shook her head. 

"Looked like you really enjoyed that." Spencer said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, it was great. Trust me. You ready?" 

Spencer pursed his lips together and against his better judgement licked the side of his hand and poured the salt. He grabbed the lime and nodded his head. Amelia smiled as she did the same.

"I'm ready. Are you?" Spencer asked. Amelia picked up her shot glass and so did Spencer.

"And....go!" They both hurriedly licked the salt, took the shot and bit down on the lime. Amelia laughed as Spencer set down the shot glass with a groan.

"Oh God, that's terrible! Why would anyone want to drink this?" He exclaimed, as he kept swallowing trying to rid his mouth of the taste of tequila.

"It wasn't that bad. My sister in law drinks this stuff like it's water." 

"My condolences to her." Spencer said laughing. "You want to do another one? I'll buy."

"Oh, Mister oh this is so terrible but I want to do another one? All right. let's go."

Spencer motioned for another round and was rewarded with two more glasses and more limes. He held up the shot glass to Amelia.

"Cheers!" He said as he downed the second shot. Amelia followed and set the glass back on the bar. She took a moment to take in Spencer's features. She could see the glazed look in his eyes, the flush from the alcohol that graced his cheeks. He was quite breath taking in her opinion. Better looking than Owen. She felt like he understood pain. and addiction. and wanting. She had come to this bar unsure of what she would do but now that she was here with him, she was okay with drinking and taking the pills. It seemed okay. She wondered if he felt the same. She found herself wondering a lot about Spencer Reid. 

Spencer set his shot glass down and turned to look at Amelia. What was he doing? He was never reckless but he was being reckless right now. It felt good. He wanted to feel good. To not feel lonely and abandoned and awkward. Right now, drinking with her and taking that pill, he felt good. He didn't feel the pain of losing his mother. Of losing Gideon. Of losing Maeve. He just felt...

"Do you want to get out of here?" Amelia asked breaking Spencer's train of thought. Spencer nodded, although he had no idea where getting out of here was. He asked the bartender to just put everything on his tab and he quickly scribbled his signature on the receipt without looking at the total. They both stood and walked toward the exit. They stopped abruptly when they realized it was raining heavily.

"Where are you staying?" Amelia asked as they huddled under the overhang of the bar entrance.

"At the Concorde Inn down the street. Do you live nearby?" Spencer replied along with asking his question.

"I live about forty minutes and a ferry ride outside of the city. You want to go back to your place? The Condorde Inn is about, what, three blocks down the street? We could run." Amelia said as she wrapped her coat tighter around her frame. That sounded good to Spencer. 

" How fast can you run? I don't have an umbrella." Spencer said as he smiled down at her. Amelia returned the smile.

"Fast. How about you?"?

"Well, we'll see, huh?" Spencer replied as he pushed the door open and took off down the street. Amelia followed closely behind. The rain soaked them immediately and they laughed as they splashed through puddles and avoided random passerby's. They reached the entrance to the hotel within a few minutes and as Spencer turned to walk inside, Amelia grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her. 

"Thank you." She said as he stared down at her, the rain falling and soaking them even more than they already were. Spencer smiled, as a nervous feeling filled his stomach. He hadn't felt like this in almost two years. Since...since Maeve.

"For what?" he asked, staring into her eyes. He watched as the raindrops hit her face and rolled down the side of her cheeks, almost like tears.

" For tonight, I guess." She said quietly. The alcohol and the oxy were starting to kick in and she felt a warmth spread throughout her. She attributed it to the drugs but a small part of her hoped it was because of Spencer. She watched him smile down at her.

"I'd like to kiss you now." He heard himself say. What was he doing? He felt light headed from the oxy and the alcohol was lowering his inhibitions. He'd barely kissed anyone, let alone initiated kissing someone. He watched a smile spread across Amelia's face. Her hair was wet and clung to the sides of her jaw. He could feel his own hair clinginging to his cheeks and the thought that they both looked ridiculous crossed his mind. He couldn't back down now.   
He leaned in as Amelia tilted her head up and he brought his lips to hers. He prayed to a God he didn't believe in that he was doing this right. Her lips were soft and felt good against his own. He pulled her closer to him and she reached up to wrap her hand around the back of his neck. After a moment, he pulled back.

"Wow." Amelia said, bringing her hand up to her face to push the hair out of her eyes. She rocked back on her heels, bending her knees so she dipped slightly away from Spencer. " For someone who wouldn't shake my hand because of germs about a half hour ago, you sure got over that hurdle fast." 

Spencer could feel his cheeks burn, even with the cold rain hitting them. He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it when nothing came out. Amelia walked past him, taking his hand and pulling him through the hotel doors. The water dripped from their clothes as they walked through the lobby. Their shoes squeaked on the wet tiles and both of them were fighting back laughter at the odd looks hotel guests were giving them. Spencer stopped in front of a door and fished a room key out of his pocket.

"There are hotels that still use actual keys?" Amelia asked, watching as Spencer stuck the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened and she followed him inside.

"Not every establishment has fallen victim to technology." Spencer replied as he hit the light switch. He walked over to an arm chair that was situated in the corner of the room and began to rummage through a suitcase that was perched on it. He turned around with a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt in his hands. "There's a robe in the bathroom but I figured that might be kind of weird because I would feel weird being in an almost stranger's hotel room in a robe but I do have some extra pajamas but that's kind of weird too seeing as you'd be wearing someone else's clothes. However, this hotel does have a laundry site so depending on whether you want to wash your clothes then dry them or simply just dry them, it might only be for an hour or so. I think these will be kind of big but-"

"Thank you, Spencer." Amelia said as her lips turned up at the corner with an amused look. She walked toward him and grabbed the clothes from his hands.

"That was quite a mouthful. Do you always think so much?"

"Yes." Spencer replied, letting his hands fall to his sides. Amelia made her way to bathroom door.

"Well, don't. It's not all it's cracked up to be. I'm going to change. I won't come out until you give me the go ahead so if you want to change as well..." Amelia let her voice trail off as she walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Spencer stood still a moment before turning back to his suitcase and grabbing the other set of pajamas he'd packed. 

He quickly stripped his wet clothes from his body and kicked them to the side. He left them in a heap next to the arm chair. He slid on the pajama pants and inwardly cringed at the design. He'd handed Amelia the plain plaid ones he normally wore but the second pair had been a gag gift from Garcia and they were black with a picture of Spock's hand from Star Trek with the saying Live Long and Prosper splayed down one leg in bright writing. He sighed because unless he wanted to change into a pair of khakis, this was his only choice. He grabbed a plain white t-shirt and quickly put it on. He heard Amelia call out from behind the closed door.

"You're good!" He yelled back and watched as she stepped out of the bathroom. She was shorter than he originally thought as he eyed the heeled boots in her hand and the soaked clothes draped over her forearm. The extra fabric at the bottom of the pajama pants pooled at her ankles and almost hid her feet entirely. The shirt fit her better and then he realized...

"This is one of the best shirts I have seen in awhile." She said as she grabbed at the bottom hem and pulled it taught so she could read it better. Spencer could feel his face heat up again. The shirt had eight pi signs in a row and read Octopi underneath. Amelia raised an eyebrow as she stared at Spencer. "...and nice pants."

"I can find you a different shirt." He said quickly trying to will the redness in his cheeks away. Amelia shook her head.

"I like this shirt. It's funny. I'm a geek, too. The prefix to my name is doctor as well." She said lightly as she walked toward the pile of Spencer's clothes. She bent down to pick them up and when she stood she was standing face to face with him. "I left the bag on the bathroom sink. Go ahead and, uh, take another. I'm going to throw these in the wash and I'll be back. Where is the key?"

Spencer motioned to the bed and watched as Amelia grabbed it and slipped out the door. His eyes drifted toward the bathroom and a pang of longing hit him. He was still nicely buzzed from the tequila and mixed drinks and the high from the pill was there but it wasn't like he remembered it. He remembered feeling numb the last time he took an injection of dilaudid. Oxy was technically the same type of drug but he didn't feel anything yet. He took Amelia's suggestion and walked into the bathroom.

* * *

 

Amelia walked down the almost deserted halls of the hotel. For a Saturday night, she thought there'd be more people milling about. She wasn't disappointed there weren't people seeing as how she walking barefoot in way too long pajamas and bra-less in a shirt that said Octopi on it. She followed the signs to the laundry room and was happy to see that the washer and dryers were complimentary. She had pulled a couple of damp dollar bills from her pocket before leaving the room but wasn't sure that a machine would change them out and she didn't feel like trying to explain why she was asking to trade damp money for coins at the front desk. 

She quickly loaded the clothes and added soap, also thankful there were small boxes of detergent placed along a shelf above the machines. She was beginning to think she liked this hotel. She turned the dial on the machine and heard the sound of water filling it. Satisfied, she made a mental note that the digital timer read thirty two minutes. She made her way back to Spencer's room turning the key over and over in the palm of her hand. What was she doing? This type of chaos was familiar to her but it had been so long since she'd given in that it was a foreign familiar, like when you visit a childhood playground. You remember the motions and the feels but it's fleeting. Was it really as good as you remembered? She hoped so. 

She made one stop at the vending machines and was glad they took her dollar bills. Armed with two bottles of soda she found herself in front of the door and turning the key. She walked in to see Spencer stretched out on the bed, one hand tucked behind his head with the television remote in the other. One foot was crossed over the other. It reminded her of a human pretzel. He had on The History Channel and he stared blankly at the screen. She laughed as she sat down next to him, gently tossing one of the bottles in his direction.

"Thought you might be thirsty. I know I get thirsty when..." She watched as he picked up the bottle and turned his head to her. She could see his pupils were dilated. She took a slow breath in as he thanked her. His words were soft and deliberate, like he had to concentrate on every word just to form them. She looked at the bathroom. An image of Derek popped into her head. They had just finished a surgery and he had his arm around her saying that he was proud of her. She wondered if he was proud of her now. Owen flashed across her mind next. The words he said when she had bought oxy and he was trying to talk her out of taking them. He was wrong. Feeling wasn't natural. At least feeling this way wasn't natural.

She stood and walked into the bathroom. The small bag of pills was situated neatly on the sink counter. One was laid out for her next to a hotel business card and a rolled up dollar bill. She looked around to find something to crush the pill with. Whatever Spencer had used wasn't obvious to her. She placed the pill under the business card and used the end of one of the shampoo bottles to apply pressure. She felt it breakdown under her fingers and used the card to effectively crush it into a power the rest of the way. She used the edge of the card to divide the small pile of power into a neat line and reached for the dollar pill. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror before she bent down. It occurred to her that Spencer had probably done the same. She bent down and snorted the line.

It burned more than she remembered and it made her cough a little bit but the effects hit her much more rapidly than just ingesting it. Her head started to feel heavy and the tension lifted from her shoulders. She smiled as she laid the card and dollar back on to the sink. She brushed what little evidence was left from the pill off the counter and tucked all the items into the medicine cabinet. She made her way back out into the main area and saw that Spencer was still stretched out. She shuffled her way to the bed and crawled in next to him. She wanted to be close to someone. To feel their chest fall and rise. She was glad he didn't protest when she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. She jumped a bit and smiled when she felt the arm that had been propped behind him snake around her shoulder. He still had the remote in the other hand. She watched the muscles flex in his arm, rippling under the skin as he turned the remote in his hand idly. Her eyes trailed up his arm and stopped when she saw a round pink scar on his bicep.

"What's that?" Amelia asked, bringing one hand up to touch the spot. Spencer followed her gaze to the scar and she watched sadness flash across his face for a moment before it was replaced by the distant look he wore before.

"I was shot." he said simply. "It was a hostage situation and I was trying to talk the suspect down. She, she shot me then killed herself and the hostage." His voice had turned almost emotionless by the end of the sentence and she felt there was more to that story but didn't want to pry.

"My brother was shot once. There was gunman in the hospital he was running and the shooter was mad about a do not resuscitate order his wife had. Legally, Derek had to take her off life support but, but, he just couldn't get over it. It's amazing how crazy one event can make a person."

"Did he live?" Spencer asked, his brain registering that her brother's name was Derek and he wondered if this was the same brother she mentioned at the bar. 

"Yeah, he did. Does it hurt?" She said, changing the subject. Spencer frowned as he cast his glance down at her.

"Does what hurt?" He asked, confused.

"Getting shot." She clarified. He sighed.

"Not at first. It stuns you more than anything. Then once the adrenaline wears off it hurts. At least, that's how it felt when I was shot in the arm and in the leg. I was shot in the neck once but I don't remember much about that except drifting in and out of consciousness and my co-worker calling my name in the ambulance." 

"You've been shot three times? Damn. I thought I was the only one with bad luck." Amelia said with a touch of awe in her voice. Spencer laughed and the sound of his voice vibrated against the cheek she had pressed against him.

"Shot three times and taken hostage twice, well, technically taken hostage three times as well, if you count the incident with getting shot in the arm."

Spencer wanted to change the subject. The last thing he wanted to think about was Tobias Hankel and Maeve but the conversation had naturally progressed there and his mind was too numb to divert the questions. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to think of anything else when he felt Amelia's weight shift and felt her straddle his hips. The sudden heaviness of her on him wasn't unpleasant and he opened his eyes to find her staring down at him. He watched as she traced the outline of the scar on his arm, then brought her fingers to the scar on his neck. She brought her face close to his and caught his mouth with her own. She brought her other hand to his face and used her fingers to run them through the sides of still damp and now tangled hair. He felt a jolt go through him and he sighed into her mouth. He couldn't hide his obvious interest in her and squirmed a bit trying to adjust himself under her so it wasn't so awkward. 

"S-sorry." He mumbled into her mouth. He felt her smile against his lips. 

"Why?" She asked, pulling back from the kiss. "Let me make you feel good. Isn't that the point of all this? To feel better? To forget? and don't think for a second this isn't making me feel good." 

Spencer nodded. That had been his intention when he walked into the bar. He didn't think this was how it was going to end up, though. He could feel her fingers at the hem of his shirt and he did little to protest as she pulled it up over his arms and head and threw it to the side. It wasn't that he hadn't been with anyone before, it was just that it had been a really long time and for someone who was almost thirty five, he felt embarrassed that he didn't have more experience. 

He watched as Amelia slid her hands down his chest, the heat from the friction felt good and she used that motion to climb off of him and stand. Spencer sat up and moved his legs to the side so he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Follow my lead." She said as her hands grabbed the edge of the shirt she was wearing. Spencer nodded again and his breath hitched as he became more aroused. That was one side effect narcotics didn't have on him. He never had any problems performing when he was taking them. He watched her pull the shirt up over her head and then she was standing topless in front of him. Her hands went to the drawstring of her pants next and she untied it, slipping her thumbs below the waistband and using them to slid them off her hips. They fell silently to the floor and she stepped out of them, kicking them in the direction of the shirt.

"Now put your hands on me." She said as she walked toward Spencer and once again straddled his hips. He obeyed and ran his finger tips down either side of her spine as he brought his mouth to her neck. He could feel her rotating her hips into him as he worked his way down her neck, over her collar bone and from one breast to the other. From the sounds escaping her mouth, he figured he was doing okay. 

Amelia put her hand on Spencer's chest, pushing him away from her slightly and reached for the waistband of his pants. Spencer closed his eyes as her hands pulled at the fabric and shuddered a bit when the cold air hit his exposed skin. He helped her kick the pants off and those ended up on the floor along with the other articles of clothing. She gently pushed him back, smiling as she did.

"You ready?" She asked, her dark eyes dilated and her voice low. He was ready. Painfully ready. 

"Yes." Spencer replied as he leaned forward to kiss her again. He felt her weight lift from him, then a hand at the base of his cock. He gasped at the sudden contact then gasped again as he felt her guide it into herself. She slowly lowered herself completely onto him and he felt his breath coming in short spurts at the sudden heat and tightness of her. This wasn't like he had remembered. He had remembered sex to be awkward, messy and quick. This was...this was something completely different. 

Amelia began to move on top of him and he brought his hands to her hips to help steady her and began to match her movements with his own. He watched as she closed her eyes and a flush spread across her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows then released them as she tilted her head back but leaned forward placing her hands on his chest. With her face that close to his, he could hear the uneven rushed sound of her breathing. Spencer quickened his pace sliding into her harder. A hum of approval escaped her lips and it send a wave of desire through him. They stayed like this for a few minutes, rhythmically moving into one another.

"I'm...I'm going to flip you over." Spencer said breathlessly. Amelia opened her eyes in confusion for a moment but then realized what he meant when he reached around and grabbed her from behind, then rolled. She laughed as she tumbled beneath him, their limbs colliding with one another until she straightened herself underneath him and he positioned himself better over the top of her.

"Feeling a little dominant, are we?" She said playfully as Spencer propped himself over her, resting his weight on his elbows. She watched him give her a smirk and then threw her head back as he re-entered her at a different angle. "Indeed." She said, answering her own question. 

Spencer brought his lips back to hers for moment before rolling his hips in a circular motion. It felt good to him and Amelia seemed to like it because she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling herself closer to him with each thrust. He could feel her grinding against him and she began to make a soft whimper. 

"Keep going, keep going..." She panted out. Spencer had to concentrate on what he was doing because he was close to finishing and from the sounds Amelia was making, so was she. The whimpering stopped and was replaced by short, sharp gasps. Her legs tightened around him and he picked up the pace. The gasping was replaced by one long shuddering breath in and Spencer screwed his face up as the feeling of Amelia on him changed.

"Did you?" He asked, not wanting to slow things down in case she hadn't. He felt Amelia start to loosen her grip.

"Yeah." It was the green light that Spencer wanted so he could finish as well. It took a minute or so more and his thrusting became erratic and the sensation of an orgasm built in the base of his spine. He felt himself start to go and he pulled out as his muscles started to contract. He let out a low groan as he rolled away from her and onto his back. He felt limp after and concentrated on slowing his breathing down. He could hear Amelia doing the same. He tilted his head to the side to see if she was looking at him. She was. He smiled and she returned the gesture.

"Thank you." He said, his breath finally slowing. 

"And thank you." Amelia replied. Spencer watched as she grabbed the sheet beneath the comforter and wrapped it around her as she stood. She tossed the other half of the comforter over him when she did. "When you feel ready, there will be a line waiting for you."

  
She disappeared back into the bathroom and he fell back into the pillows. This was going to be an interesting night.


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer threw the comforter back from his body as he swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand. The sudden shift from laying down to standing made his vision tunnel for a moment as he walked to the other side to grab his clothes. His body felt disconnected from his head and he smiled to himself as he pulled his pajama pants up over his hips and tied them back into place. He found his shirt next, slipped it back on, then reached for the other items on the floor. He laid them neatly over the foot board of the bed for Amelia when she exited the bathroom. He played with the idea of joining her in there. His heart rate picked up as he thought about her walking away from him with the open invitation to do some more. It was like a dam had been broken and he wanted to do line after line of oxy until he was flying.

  
The sound of his phone vibrating on the night stand pulled him from his thoughts. He walked over and picked it up, staring at the screen.

_Incoming Call: Morgan_

He sighed, hitting the ignore button as he had done with the last call from Derek. and with the call from Penelope and from JJ. He had ignored at least twenty calls combined between them and even one from Hotch. At least Rossi had enough respect to not try and pry. It hadn't taken him long to suspect that Penelope had checked up on him and figured out that his mother had died. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to his friends. He didn't know what to say.  
A voicemail icon appeared in the top corner and a text message notification came across the screen. Curiosity got the best of him and he tapped on the envelope to open it. It was from Penelope.

_Please, please, pleeeaaassee don't be mad. I was just worried when no one could get a hold of you so I may have, well, did, do some searching on the information super highway and I am so sorry about your Mom. Just let me know you're okay. Or let Derek or JJ or somebody know. Xx_

Spencer shook his head as he hit the delete button for the message and tossed his phone onto the bed. He could see it light up with another notification and he turned to stare at the bathroom door. He walked up to it, his footsteps silent on the carpet and lightly tapped on it. 

"About time." Amelia's voice drifted through. "Get in here." 

He reached for the knob, wrapped his fingers around it and opened the door. Amelia still had the sheet wrapped around her and was sitting on the closed toilet lid, her legs crossed as she balanced her elbows on her knees. Her hands were supporting her head and her eyes were half closed. He recognized the look. That's were he wanted to be. He saw two lines of crushed pills arranged neatly on the counter. Amelia spoke again.

"There's two there." Her voice was soft, almost emotionless. He glanced down at her and she looked at him with glazed eyes. Eyes that seemed to look through him rather than at him. "It's...it's as good as I remembered." 

Spencer reached for the rolled bill. He hoped this this round of snorting the pills would go smoother than his first attempt. His encounter with dilaudid only had him injecting it. It had never strayed from that method. He knew the concept behind nasal absorption but reading about it was one thing and actually doing it was another. He had to pause half way through the first line to adjust the bill but the second line went without a hitch. He furrowed his brow at the burn and the itching sensation in the back of his throat but his face relaxed quickly as the drug kicked in.

He felt the bill slip from his hand and it fluttered to the tiled floor. He bent to pick it up and all his movements felt like they were going in slow motion. He felt like water was coursing through his head as his limbs began to feel numb. He wondered if this was what Amelia was feeling. Spencer turned to face her, trying to get his brain and mouth to sync. It was proving to be a difficult task.

"Out there?" He managed, turning his shoulder to the door. He watched her shake her head slowly.

"Just give me a few minutes then I'll be out."

He nodded as he turned to walk out into the main room. He shuffled his way back to the bed and scooped up his phone. There were two message notifications. He walked toward the arm chair, pushed his suit case to the floor and flopped into it. The sound of the television in the background drifted to his ears but other than that, the room was silent. He tapped the icon and the first message popped up.

_Spence, please call me. I just want to make sure you're okay. I'm worried._

He deleted JJ's message and the next one came up on his screen. His eyebrows rose in surprise because it was from Hotch.

 _Would you please respond to let me know you're all right?_

Spencer hit reply to the message and tapped out a short response letting Hotch know he was fine and he'd be returning to work after his vacation. The screen lit up almost immediately with another incoming call from Derek. Without thinking, Spencer hit the answer key and brought the phone to his ear,

"Hello?" he said, waiting for the inevitable flurry of words to fly from Derek's mouth. There was a pause long enough for him to question whether he actually answered the phone or just thought he had. Then he heard Derek's voice.

"Reid?" Derek's tone was questioning and Spencer brought his free hand to rub at his temple. Maybe he was more fucked up than he thought. He concentrated on speaking. 

"Yeah, it's me. What do you want, Morgan?" Spencer cringed at the sound of his voice. It was going to be hard to explain his way out of why his words were so slurred. He could try to play it of as drunk but Derek had seen him drunk enough to know his tone when he'd had too many and he hoped that the profiler in him wouldn't link the other reason why he'd be talking like this. 

Spencer could hear the sound of Derek's chair scraping across tiles and then his footsteps on the floor. He guessed that Derek was in the conference room

and was walking away for some privacy. Spencer knew he should just hang up but his hand held the phone to his ear regardless. 

"How are you doing?" Derek's voice was soft. "You could've called us."

"I'm still processing everything." Spencer replied, not elaborating any further. It was the truth. He was still processing the fact that his mother had died. He just didn't feel a need to explain to Derek just _how_ he was processing it. 

Spencer heard the bathroom door open and watched as Amelia stepped out. Her eyes locked on the clothes on the bed and he watched as she let the sheet fall to floor then slip back into his pajamas. She grabbed the room key and looked over at him, pushing her hair behind her ears. She sauntered over, languidly leaning over him to whisper in his ear. 

"I'll be right back. Laundry." 

Spencer nodded and watched her leave quietly. He'd forgotten about the laundry. He'd forgotten he was on the phone until he heard Morgan saying his name again. 

"Reid? Kid?" Derek's voice was a little louder this time. "Who was that?"

"Amelia." he said. He heard Derek sigh.

"Are you being safe?"

"Huh?" Spencer was having a hard time concentrating. A floating feeling had settled in him and he wanted to close his eyes. 

"I said, are you being safe? I can come out there. I don't know why you decided on Seattle but I swear if you need me to, I'll be on the next flight."

"Wait. How did you..." Spencer could hear his voice trail off as his head nodded down. He felt the phone slide from his fingers and hit the floor. Damn it, he thought to himself as he bent over to pick it up. He watched the call timer ticking away relieved he hadn't ended the call accidentally. He could only imagine what red flags were going off in Derek's mind. He brought the phone back to his ear. "Sorry, I dropped the phone."

"What are you on?" _There_ it was. Spencer knew it was coming. He wished he ended the call like he had wanted to. He was glad that his face couldn't be seen as he began to lie to his friend. 

"Nothing. I'm just drunk. I had too much to drink."

"No, you didn't."

"Derek, I'm going to end the call now. I will be fine. I'll see you in a week or so." Spencer said as he brought his other hand to hit the red end call button. He could faintly hear Derek's voice telling him to wait but it was silenced as he hung up. The screen returned to the home page and he locked the phone. 

Spencer leaned his head back against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He could feel the hot sting of tears behind his eyelids but he refused to let them fall. This night was about forgetting his feelings and right now he felt embarrassed about the disaster of a conversation that had just taken place. Scenarios of Derek telling the team he had relapsed filled his head and the thought of facing them when he returned caused his stomach to twist into knots. 

He inhaled deeply and stood. The room spun for a moment causing him to hold his hand out to keep his balance. The pills were really starting to hit him now. He was tired but he didn't want to sleep. He eyed the soda that was still on the bed where Amelia had tossed it earlier then his eyes drifted to the coffee machine that was settled on the desk next to the arm chair. That seemed like a better choice. 

Spencer grabbed the small glass pot by the handle and made his way to the bathroom sink to fill it. Once it was full, he fumbled with adding the coffee grounds and actually getting the water into the reservoir then finally hit the power button. With both hands on the desk, he stood leaning over the machine, hearing the first sounds of coffee brewing. He watched the dark liquid fill the glass pot and soon it was full, the last drops gurgling from the spout. He went about making a cup, feeling slightly miffed that the only cups were small paper ones and he'd have to drink at least two to consume his normal intake of coffee in a sitting. 

The coffee was nothing special but it still tasted wonderful to him. That's what happened when you got high. Ordinary things didn't seem ordinary anymore. All your problems didn't seem so pressing. It was easy to push every emotion down and get lost in the oblivion.   
He sunk down into the arm chair again, trying to clear his foggy head. The phone vibrated once more, lighting up and making him irritated. He really should just shut it off. He had zero interest in what any of the team had to say. He hit the power button and the screen blacked out. He threw it on the desk with a little more force than he meant to and it clipped the corner. The screen spider-webbed causing Spencer to shake his head in annoyance. He'd have to get a new one tomorrow but at least no one could call him and he had a valid excuse for ignoring them. His legs bounced restlessly finally stopping when he stood.

He looked at the hotel room door, wondering when Amelia would be back, then his gaze drifted to the bathroom again. Thirteen pills. Thirteen of them were left when he had looked at the bag the last time. Exactly how much was it poor drug etiquette to go take another? It's been awhile since he'd lived that culture and even when he was in the throes of dilaudid the last time, it was really just himself.

He'd met a few people when he had to make a pick up but his anxieties got the best of him and he kept to himself, holed up in his apartment in a drug induced haze. He had money and Amelia was local. Surely she could get more if it was an issue. That thought made his mind up and he walked back into the small tiled room. His foot hit something solid and he heard items scattering on the floor. Amelia's purse. Looking down, he saw the items laid out on the floor. Among them were several sterile wrapped syringes. His breath caught in his throat. Memories of the bite of the needle, the instant rush, the warm feeling that would pool inside him came flooding back. 

Spencer bent down to grab one of the packaged syringes, turning it over in his hand, contemplating if he wanted to go down this road again. The rational part of his brain was screaming how wrong this was, how wrong this entire night was but the emotional part of himself, the part he forced down on a daily basis, was screaming to do it. That everything would be better. 

He found the small bag of pills and went about crushing them, keeping each pill's pile of powder separate on the counter. Now he had to find something to mix it in. He entered the main part of the room, scanning around for something. His eyes fell on the paper cups next to the coffee machine and he grabbed one. Contrary to popular believe, the whole metal spoon and lighter method was not necessary. It was more based on the believe that heating up the solution would somehow make it more sterile but to actually achieve that, it'd have to be heated for so long all the water would evaporate. These pills were water soluble and would dissolve just fine in room temperature liquid. 

He quickly went about tearing the paper cup down so that he could mix it easier, the entire time thinking how unsanitary this all was while his brain automatically ran the statistics on actually getting an infection from it. The want outweighed the logic. 

It was few minutes of mixing and adding water while watching the powder dissolve then it was time to fill the syringes. Carefully peeling back the package, Spencer removed one then stuck the tip of the needle into the solution. He pulled the plunger back, watching the somewhat cloudy liquid fill the barrel. He brought it up to the light, tapping the barrel to release any bubbles, capped it then laid it on the counter. He did this with the second syringe, laying it next to the first one. He stood there, staring at them.

"Spencer?"

Spencer turned to see Amelia in the doorway. He hadn't heard her reenter. He followed her gaze to the syringes, watching her face. Her eyes widened slightly then she looked back at him. Her fingers twitched slightly were she was gripping the door jamb.

"I didn't mean to find them but I kicked your bag and ah, well...I made two. I figured if you didn't want to do this you wouldn't have grabbed them."

Amelia closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting back to Ryan. The last time she had injected oxy was with him. That was the night he died. Spencer was right, though. She had palmed them from the supply room at the hospital unsure of what the night would bring. When she opened her eyes, Spencer was still staring at her. She swallowed, letting her eyes drift to the syringes. She walked closer to Spencer, reaching out to grab his hand and intertwining her fingers with his. 

"Let's go back out there." Amelia said as she watched Spencer grab the syringes and follow her out of the bathroom. He handed them to her and began rifling through his suitcase which had made it's way onto the floor. His shirt slid up on his back and she could see the vertebrae protruding through the skin, moving as he moved his arms. Amelia sank to the floor, crossing her legs as she watched Spencer. He finally turned to face her with a belt in his hands.

"Cliche but it'll work." He said as he sank to his knees in front of her. He held the belt out and she grabbed it, clumsily looping it through the metal buckle as she slid it above her elbow and around her bicep. She pulled it tight, opening and closing her fist waiting for her veins to fill. She could feel Spencer's eyes on her as she used the palm of her hand to rub along her forearm to help bring them to the surface. Finally, she could see one that would work and she raised her eyes to look for the syringe. Spencer was holding it out, uncapped and waiting for her. She grabbed it from his hand and lined it up over her vein. She gasped slightly as the needle slid beneath her skin and she pulled the plunger back to make sure she had gotten it in. She watched her own blood mix in with the oxy and as she pushed the plunger down, it was like a movie reel of everything she'd been concerned with played through her head. It stopped the second the the barrel was empty. 

Amelia let the belt fall from her arm, rolling her neck from side to side as she handed it to Spencer. She was vaguely aware of Spencer mimicking what she had just done and tried to keep her eyes open. The sound of metal hitting the floor got her to open her eyes and she stared at Spencer. She imagined that her own body mirrored his. Blank, vacant eyes that were glazed over. Short, shallow breaths through barely open mouths. Faint track marks that were so subtle you'd have to know they were already there to see them and the red, raw new track mark among the cluster of old ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you all enjoyed this installment. :)


End file.
